Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Edward’s fingers drummed an erratic rhythm on his desk as he stared unseeing at the papers before him. The letter lay in one of his drawers—and he’d read it multiple times. The events of the past few days played on an endless loop in his mind, and though he tried to ignore them Catherine’s impassioned words echoed vividly in his ears. With a frustrated growl, he pushed back from the desk and strode to the window.

The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. It reminded him of the blush that so often graced Catherine’s cheeks. Edward closed his eyes, remembering the softness of her skin under his fingertips, the warmth of her breath against his neck. He could almost smell the faint lavender scent that clung to her hair.

A sharp knock at the door startled him from his reverie. “Enter,” he called, his voice gruff.

Mr. Harper appeared, his face impassive as always. “My Lord, Lady Emily is asking for you. I believe she wishes to discuss something relating to the dinner party.”

Edward nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Thank you, Samuel. I will see her now.”

As he made his way to the parlor, Edward’s steps faltered. To his utter surprise, Catherine was there, bent over a book with Emily, their heads close together as they discussed something in animated whispers. The sight made his heart clench painfully.

Catherine looked up as he entered, her green eyes widening slightly before she quickly averted her gaze. “My Lord,” she murmured, rising to her feet. “I shall leave you to speak with Lady Emily.”

“No,” Edward said, a tad more sharply than he intended. Both Catherine and Emily looked at him in surprise. He cleared his throat. “I mean... there is no need to leave on my account, Miss Winslow. Please, continue your lesson.”

An awkward silence fell over the room. Emily glanced between Edward and Catherine, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Edward,” she said hesitantly, “I… I thought after our dinner with Lady Isabella that we could hold our own dinner party… and I’d like to plan it. With… with Miss Winslow’s help, of course.”

Edward saw Catherine stiffen, her knuckles white as she gripped the back of her chair. “I will allow the party,” he said. “Though I am sure Miss Winslow has more important matters to attend to,” he let out at last, his voice carefully neutral.

“Nonsense,” Emily insisted. “Miss Winslow always has such wonderful ideas. Don’t you think so, Edward?”

He met Catherine’s gaze, seeing the conflict in her eyes. Though she remained quiet, there was a world open in her gaze. “Yes,” he said softly at last. “She certainly does.”

Catherine’s cheeks flushed, and for a moment, Edward was transported back to that night in his chambers, when her skin had been flushed for an entirely different reason. He shook his head, banishing the thought.

“Very well,” Catherine said, her voice barely above a whisper. “If you insist, Lady Emily.”

The next hour passed in a haze of polite conversation and careful avoidance. Every time Catherine spoke, Edward found himself leaning in, drinking in the sound of her voice. When their hands accidentally brushed as they both reached for the same sheet of paper, he felt a jolt of electricity run through him.

“Well,” Emily said finally, stifling a yawn, “I think that is everything. Thank you both for your help.”

As Emily left the room, Edward and Catherine found themselves alone. The air between them crackled with tension.

“Miss Winslow,” Edward began, not quite sure what he wanted to say.

“My Lord,” Catherine interrupted, her voice trembling slightly. “If that is all, I should retire for the evening. Unless…”

Edward shook his head. He could not spend a moment thinking about that letter or what it meant, he couldn’t… Catherine paled visibly, then nodded.

“Well then… if you will allow me. Goodnight, My Lord.”

Edward nodded, watching her retreat with a heavy heart. He wanted to call her back, to explain, to beg her forgiveness. But the words stuck in his throat.

The next morning, Edward found himself in the library, ostensibly reviewing estate documents but in reality, lost in thought. The sound of footsteps made him look up, his breath catching as Catherine entered the room.

She froze when she saw him, her eyes widening. “I am sorry, My Lord. I did not realize you were here. I… I will come back later.”

“No, please,” Edward said quickly, rising to his feet. “Stay. I... I would… please, do stay? I wish… to ask you something.”

Catherine hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Of course, My Lord. How can I assist you?”

Edward gestured to the pile of papers on his desk. “Well… I am reviewing some proposals for improvements to the tenant farms. I’d value your opinion on which projects should take priority.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Catherine’s face, quickly replaced by a look of determination. “Forgive me, My Lord,” she said, moving to stand beside him and looking up at him. “But I do not believe that this… fits in with my duties.”

“It does not,” Edward agreed. “But I value your opinion, Miss Winslow. Even when you do not believe I do.”

As they bent over the documents together, Edward was acutely aware of Catherine’s proximity. The scent of lavender enveloped him, making it hard to concentrate. He found himself stealing glances at her profile, admiring the curve of her cheek, the slight furrow of concentration between her brows.

“What do you think of this proposal for a new irrigation system?” he asked, his voice low.

Catherine leaned in closer to examine the document, her shoulder brushing against his. Edward’s breath hitched at the contact.

“I don’t know, My Lord,” she whispered. “I… I don’t know anything about these things.”

“But what do you think?”

She turned her head to look up at him and their eyes met. Edward could feel his heart racing wildly within his chest as his eyes moved to her lips. How he wanted to press his lips against hers, to kiss her and hold her in his arms in an attempt to feel whole once again.

Not for the first time, he desperately wished for only a moment to speak with his parents once more. His father, who had instilled duty and loyalty in him from a tender age. Would he understand?

Or would he believe that this desire made him weak?

Though a part of him wished, hoped that his father would have encouraged him to follow his heart, he knew the odds were low.

“My Lord…”

Her voice was quiet, and Edward tilted his head downwards. She was so close—close enough to kiss, to taste and his heart skipped a beat.

Then, within an instant, the spell was broken by a knock at the door. It was Mr. Harper who entered, his expression grim. “My Lord, Lady Isabella has arrived unexpectedly. She is asking to see you.”

Though she tried not to show it, Edward saw Catherine stiffen slightly at the mention of Isabella’s name. “Thank you, Samuel,” he said, his voice tight. “I will be there shortly.”

As Mr. Harper left, Edward turned back to Catherine, his eyes searching hers as he tried to regain some of the magic that had sparked between them. “Miss Winslow, I…”

But Catherine was already gathering her skirts, preparing to leave. “You shouldn’t keep Lady Isabella waiting, My Lord,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “Good day.”

Edward watched her go, his heart heavy with regret.

The next few days passed in a blur of stolen glances and stilted conversations. Edward found himself constantly aware of Catherine’s presence, his body attuned to her every movement. He caught himself making excuses to be in the same room as her, relishing even the briefest of interactions.

It was late one afternoon, he came across Catherine in the garden, tending to a bed of roses. The sight of her, cheeks flushed from the sun and a smudge of dirt on her nose, took his breath away. Strangely, he thought, she looked far more beautiful than ever before—seated on the ground in the most unladylike fashion, dirtied by the ground and her hair out of its neat bundle.

“Miss Winslow,” he called out as he approached her. “I was not aware that you had an interest in gardening.”

Catherine looked up, seemingly startled. “Oh, My Lord. I... I find it soothing. And the roses needed some attention.”

Edward knelt beside her, inhaling the sweet scent of the flowers. “They are beautiful,” he said softly, though his eyes were fixed on Catherine rather than the roses.

She blushed under his gaze, quickly turning her attention back to the plants. “They remind me of my father,” she said, her voice wistful. “He always kept a small garden, even when times were hard.”

Edward felt a pang in his chest at the hint of sadness in her voice. Without thinking, he reached out and gently brushed a stray curl from her face. Catherine’s eyes met his, wide with surprise and something else... longing?

The moment stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and repressed desires. Edward leaned in slightly, drawn by an irresistible force.

“Catherine,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

But before he could say more, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the spell. They sprang apart as Emily came bounding around the corner.

“Edward! Miss Winslow! There you are. I have been looking everywhere for you both.”

Edward cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “What is it, Emily?”

“I have had the most wonderful idea for the dinner party,” Emily said excitedly. “I want to have a musical performance after dinner. Miss Winslow, you play the piano beautifully. Would you consider performing for our guests?”

Catherine’s face paled. “Oh, I... I’m not sure that would be appropriate, Lady Emily. I am just a governess, after all.”

“Nonsense,” Emily insisted. “You should not sell yourself short. You… you could have been a famous pianist, I think. People will love it. Please? You must play for us!”

Edward felt caught between his sister’s enthusiasm and Catherine’s discomfort. “If Miss Winslow is uncomfortable with the idea, we should not press her, Emily,” he said at last.

But Emily was not to be deterred. She ignored her brother, turning instead to Catherine with a pleading gaze. “Please, Miss Winslow? It would mean so much to me.”

Catherine looked between the siblings, her resolve visibly weakening. Finally, she nodded. “If you truly wish it, Lady Emily, I would be honored.”

Emily clapped her hands in delight. Edward, however, turned his gaze to the ground and a frown appeared between his brows. The thought of Catherine performing for their guests, for Isabella, filled him with a strange discomfort.

He was not quite sure why. Neither Catherine nor Emily seemed to notice his apprehension, however. Instead, they were quickly drawn into lively chatter about the party, and he made his way to the study slowly—wishing that he could slow down the time before it came.

That, of course, was not possible. The evening of the dinner party arrived all too quickly. Edward found himself pacing in his study, his nerves on edge. The guests would be arriving soon, including Isabella. Edward was far from prepared to admit how he truly felt about this.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. “Come in,” he called out firmly, looking up when the door opened.

It was Catherine who entered, looking lovely in a simple blue gown. “My Lord,” she said, her eyes downcast. “Lady Emily asked me to inform you that the first guests have arrived.”

Edward nodded, his throat suddenly dry. There was so much that he wanted to say to her—but for the past few days, they had ignored the note she had found as though it did not exist. Did she still think of it? He shook his head quickly to rid himself of his thoughts. “Thank you, Miss Winslow. Will you... will you still be performing this evening?”

Catherine’s eyes met his, a flash of nervousness visible before she masked it. “Yes, My Lord. I promised Lady Emily, after all.”

Edward took a step closer to her, drawn by an invisible force. “Catherine,” he said softly, “I... I want you to know that you do not have to do this if you are uncomfortable. I can make your excuses to Emily.”

Catherine’s expression softened slightly, and Edward’s heart skipped a beat. “Thank you, My Lord,” she said, her voice forcefully light. “But I will be fine. It is just a simple performance, after all.”

Edward reached out, gently taking her hand in his. “I am certain you will be wonderful,” he murmured. “Just as you always are.”

Their eyes met and his heart raced at this. “Catherine,” he started. “I want you to know, I…”

The moment was broken by Isabella’s voice ringing out from the hallway. “Edward! Darling, where are you hiding?”

Catherine flinched, pulling her hand away. “If you will excuse me, My Lord,” she whispered, slipping out of the room before Lady Isabella could enter.

“Edward, darling,” Isabella spoke lightly. “How rude of you to keep your guests waiting! Come—we must attend to the guests at once.”

Edward merely nodded with a stiff smile before he led Isabella to the dining room where the dinner party was in full swing, filled with the chatter of the ton and the clink of crystal. Edward found his gaze constantly drawn to Catherine, who sat at the far end of the table, quiet and withdrawn.

Isabella, who had quickly taken the seat to his right, leaned in close. “Darling,” she purred, her voice carrying just far enough for Catherine to hear, “I do hope you are not regretting your decision to include the help in our little soirée. It must be so overwhelming for her, poor thing.”

Edward frowned, opening his mouth to retort, but Catherine beat him to it. “Not at all, Lady Isabella,” she said, her voice calm and clear. “I find the conversation most illuminating. In fact, I was just discussing the latest developments in France with Lord Ashbury. His insights are quite fascinating.”

Isabella’s eyes narrowed, but before she could respond, Emily chimed in. “Oh yes! Miss Winslow is ever so knowledgeable about world affairs. She has been teaching me all about the political climate in Europe.”

Edward could not help the small smile that tugged at his lips. Pride swelled in his chest—though he did not want to explore whether it was aimed at Catherine’s composure or Emily’s fierce loyalty.

As the evening wore on, Edward found himself growing increasingly agitated. Isabella’s simpering laughs grated on his nerves, while Catherine’s quiet dignity drew him like a moth to a flame.

Finally, it was time for Catherine’s performance. As she made her way to the piano, Edward held his breath. She looked pale but determined as she settled onto the bench.

The first notes filled the air, and Edward felt his heart swell with pride. Catherine’s fingers danced over the keys, coaxing out a melody so beautiful and haunting that the entire room fell silent. As he watched her play, lost in the music, Edward felt something shift inside him. How deftly those fingers traveled across the notes, how he desired those hands to touch his skin just once more.

When the last note faded away, there was a moment of stunned silence before the room erupted in applause. Catherine rose, her cheeks flushed with exertion and embarrassment, and curtsied deeply.

Edward wanted nothing more than to go to her, to tell her how magnificent she had been, even in front of the crowd. It was only Isabella’s hand on his arm that prevented him from doing this.

“Well,” Isabella said, her voice syrupy sweet, “that was... quaint. How clever of you, Edward, to have your staff entertain us. It is so... economical.”

Edward felt a surge of anger at Isabella’s words. His eyes blazed and he turned to Isabella with a dark frown. Before he could speak, however, Catherine’s voice rang out clearly.

“Thank you for your kind words, Lady Isabella,” she said, her voice steady. “Music has always been a passion of mine. I am grateful for the opportunity to share it—and if it is economical for his lordship, I am glad. Please… do excuse me.”

With a single glance in his direction, Catherine slipped from the room before Edward could move a muscle to stop her.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Edward found himself going through the motions, making small talk and playing the gracious host, but his mind was elsewhere. He could not shake the image of Catherine at the piano, her face transfigured by the music she created.

The thought of her followed him until the last guest departed, haunting him even as he walked Isabella to her own carriage. Once there, she turned to him—her eyes earnest.

“Edward,” Isabella sighed, and she lay a palm against his cheek. “I… I was hoping that we could continue our relationship in the manner your mother and father had wanted, that we could…”

She blinked a few times and tears sprang into her eyes.

“I fear that you are no longer interested in me… that you have forgotten me—and their wishes for us.”

“No,” Edward said almost automatically, his heart twinging with hurt as he tried to suppress the memory of Catherine.

“You are right, Isabella. We ought to continue where we left off, I suppose. So… will you marry me?”

Though the words left his lips, Edward’s heart screamed desperately at him to reconsider. He allowed his eyes to shut for a mere two seconds, granting himself a momentary reprieve of his reality.

‘Duty before all,’ his father had instilled in him ages ago. ‘The eyes of the ton are on us.’

It would have been easy—or at the very least possible—he supposed, to scream to hell with the ton , as his heart begged him to do. Had it only been himself to consider.

Emily’s innocent eyes and the corpses of his parents tortured him, however.

Family and duty first.

That was all he knew, all he was: all his life, he’d lived according to that code. Do the right thing, make your family proud, do your duty.

How he wished that even one day could be different—that he could choose what he longed for over what he had to do.

Isabella seemed unaware of his turmoil.

“Oh, Edward!” Despite her elation, he managed to subtly dodge her kiss—though he allowed her to wrap her arms around his neck. “Yes, a thousand times yes!”

“Right.” Isabella’s eyes sparkled with joy as she climbed into her carriage and waved at him. Edward sighed as he made his way to the library listlessly, his heart skipping a beat when he saw that Catherine too had sought sanctuary in the very same place. He watched quietly as she replaced a book on one of the higher shelves. The stretch of her arm caused her dress to pull tight across her back, emphasizing the graceful curve of her spine.

Edward cleared his throat, causing Catherine to start. She turned, her eyes wide. “My Lord,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I did not hear you come in.”

“Catherine,” Edward began, then paused, unsure how to continue. The weight of all he wanted to say pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe.

“Yes?” Catherine prompted, a hint of hope in her voice that made Edward’s heart ache.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself. Finally, he sat down—his mind drifting back to the choice he had made as the party had come to an end. “I must tell you that… I... I have asked Lady Isabella to marry me. She has accepted.”

The color drained from Catherine’s face. For a moment, she swayed on her feet, and Edward instinctively reached out to steady her. The moment his hand touched her arm, she jerked away as if burned.

“I see,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. “Congratulations, My Lord. If you will excuse me…”

“Is that all you have to say?” Edward demanded, frustration bubbling up inside him. He wanted her to rage, to cry, to show some sign that she cared.

Catherine’s eyes flashed. “What would you have me say, My Lord? That I think you are making a terrible mistake? That the thought of you marrying her makes me physically ill?”

“Yes!” Edward exclaimed, taking a step closer. “Tell me how you really feel, Catherine. For once, just be honest with me!”

“Honest?” Catherine’s voice rose to match his. “You want honesty? Fine. I think you are a coward, Edward Montague. You’re so afraid of getting hurt, of taking a risk, that you’re willing to settle for a loveless marriage rather than admit that there might… be something between us.”

Edward reeled back as if he had been slapped. “You don’t understand,” he growled. “I have responsibilities, duties…”

“Oh, spare me!” Catherine interrupted, her eyes blazing. “You hide behind your duties because you’re terrified of living, of feeling! Well, let me tell you something, Edward. Love is not safe or convenient. It’s messy and complicated and sometimes it hurts like hell. But it’s also the most beautiful, transformative force in the world. And you’re throwing it away for what? A life of regret and what-ifs?”

Her words hung in the air between them, heavy with truth and unshed tears. Edward stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. Everything he thought he knew, every carefully constructed wall, was crumbling in the face of Catherine’s passion.

“Catherine,” he whispered, reaching for her.

But she stepped back, shaking her head. “No,” she said, her voice breaking. “I can’t do this anymore, Edward. You wanted honesty? Well, there it is. I hope you’re satisfied.”

With that, she turned and fled the room, leaving Edward alone with the echoes of her words, and the shattered remains of his certainty.